so terra & i met up at the botanica. we made some scribbles- words this time. one was about conan the barbarian & the other was about psycho claire. eventually our plans to see harold & kumar go to white caste were dashed, when every movie theater in the entire world stopped showing it at 10:05, instead of the times that were on the internet. so into brooklyn we came, childe roland like. we were going to rent a movie, but they all sucked, so we grabbed 40oz & watched the matrix reloaded. & also talked & ate smoke, until 5:45 am. then i pulled out the futon for her & tucked into bed & zonked.
i got bit by bedbugs i think.
...the fuck? i just chose leaving the apartment over getting drunk alone.
i have special tactics, i guess. i am an organization! i say things like "even god will be held accountable!" or well- less say these things, more like, shout them at the sky shaking my fist. not, you see, because the sky is up, but because the sky is out, as in outer space. oh my children of war, we will take to the sky, rising from the charred husk of this world like a million scintillating locusts. your wings will scatted the dust from the dead sun & your rattle will make the empire of the lightning tremble. see, i say things just like that. thats an important tactic. the navahoe have special opinions about my tactics!
feel like a fucking hammer smashed into a brick wall. oh, everything is crumbling down around me but i'm oblivious. like- i miss that old razor's edge i can get keened into. all this blunt trauma gets wearying. camazotz camazotz! (i write here, & what i really mean is: the romance of the hollowpoint.) uh-oh, hold on to your hats- here comes some punctuation outside of quotation marks! it'll be real fucking switchblade.
hey remember that time moe wanted to name the gang "the christ punchers"?
so why is everybody player-hating on m. night shymalan? i guess the smart thing people like to say is that he cops hitchcock's style? well, i don't know fuck about alfie boy, but i'll tell you one thing- i don't mind standing on the shoulder's of giants. thats why we bred the nephilim! but, right? if one dude is the undisputed king of cinema suspense, wouldn't other people want to run with that? & i mean. i saw the villiage tonight with gerd. & i liked it an awful lot. i mean, i'm not going to give m. night a blow-job or anything. it wasn't the bestest greatest ever. but it sure was good at spooking. i think people give him maybe a hard time about the twists, because he tricked everyone one time with that one movie? but i thought it was really effing good.
when jim jones is talking? i think he says "i've got a hell of a lot of weapons to fight! i got my claws, i got compasses, i got guns, i got dynamite, i got a hell of a lot of fight!" all my childhood condenses down into using compasses to draw circles & only ever wanting to use it as a weapon. i think the rev. knows what i'm talking about. i think he knows. i think he knows about facing your devils. which to me, is just another saying. just another bunch of words. i don't have devils. i don't have one, kit marlowe style, hanging on my shoulder. this shoulders are kept by fell angels, with bloody swords. they keep telling me if i go to sleep, i'm screwed. they're up in the crows nest of this ship, & they can see the leviathan moving by its silhoutte.
i am lying. on my shoulders are just these lacunae.